


Frosting Over

by MyriadMusings



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, Retrospective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 20:22:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyriadMusings/pseuds/MyriadMusings
Summary: Winter remembers how she became who she became.





	Frosting Over

Winter remembers being four years old and sneaking into her parents’ bedroom, rooting through her mother’s expensive furs, wrapping them around herself like a blanket or a cloak, and looking in a mirror. She remembers feeling like she was in the lap of luxury, but also powerful like the animals the skins came from. It was like being a princess from the cold north, dressed in the hides of the beasts she had slain, becoming the leader of a pack of wolves and living life open and free. She would relish the thought of dashing through the snow and ice, her lupine companions traveling alongside her, fast but never able to step in front of her, and the feeling of leading a pack would drive a grin on her face, so wide her cheeks hurt.

Winter remembers carefully taking off the furs and putting them back into her mother’s closet before she got back, and returning to her studies and her lessons. She didn’t dare tell her parents about this little fantasy of hers. Not even Klein would know. It was the first thing Winter had ever kept to herself, and that small bit of rebellion had thrilled her.

Winter remembers being praised on her aptitude by her mother. Winter remembers the way Willow would applaud gently after she finished demonstrating her dancing, her music, her poetry, her manners, her swordsmanship…

Winter remembers that her father would tell her where she needed improvement. Sometimes he would simply nod and return to what he was doing before.

Winter remembers deciding on her own that she would stop caring about what Jacques Schnee thought.

Winter remembers being six years old when Weiss is brought home, and all the jealousy and paranoia that she had been carrying for months flew out the window as soon as she saw the screaming baby. Her lungs had been so powerful. Jacques had looked so displeased. Weiss had become Winter’s world before she had even held her little sister in her arms.

Winter remembers the day Whitley is brought home, pale and sickly, and the way Jacques looked pleased at his silence, his son, and suddenly Winter, still younger than ten, would begin to realise what kind of a person her father really was.

Winter remembers going to school, getting top marks, showing discipline and diligence. Slackers laughed at her. Many envied her. All resented her, the heiress of the Schnee Dust Company. Friends stopped being an option, but little Weiss would run up to her and hug her leg with her tiny arms and Winter would decide that Weiss, only Weiss, would be her point of weakness.

Winter remembers the day that Jacques tells Willow that he married her for her name, her power, and her business. She remembers how horrified her mother looked and how Weiss looked on the verge of tears. Whitley kept his eyes down. Wax dripped from the candles on Weiss’ birthday cake onto the frosting as a full blown argument ensued and Winter remembers deciding that her parents were **useless**.

Winter remembers being fourteen and sneaking into her parents’ room while her mother slept, alcohol on her breath. She remembers unfolding the furs, wrapping herself in them, looking in the mirror, and seeing a hollow, angry girl hiding beneath a dream. She didn’t bother refolding the furs, and Willow never noticed.

Winter remembers the pressure her father had put on her, the heiress, the new face of the company one day, and what she needed to do and being told what her future would be, and okay, fine, that was fine, so long as she didn’t have to stay in the mansion and Weiss was okay.

Winter remembers **cracking**.

Winter remembers graduating and not being able to smile. Winter remembers feeling no joy or accomplishment. Winter remembers giving her valedictorian speech, with perfect cadence and pronunciation and not a single word misused.

Winter remembers almost throwing her diploma into the fire alongside her speech once she was back home.

Winter remembers researching, and she remembers how Klein helped her pack her bags, gave her a map, and showed her a way out. She remembers faltering.

_What about Weiss?_

And Winter remembers, for the first time in years, making a decision for herself. To trust that Weiss would be able to do the same. Willow was a lost cause. Jacques was a monster. Whitley was a little snot. Weiss would have Klein. Weiss would figure it out.

Winter remembers leaving, feeling the cold air brush through her hair and across her face, and for the first time in a long time, remembering the fantasy of running through the snow with a pack of wolves.

Winter remembers buying as much as she possibly can, because of course she would be cut off. She bought essentials, transport, small luxuries that she could fit in with everything else until her card was finally declined. She had given the cashier a stiff nod, apologised, and as a final act of letting go of her fortune, put everything back on the shelves on her own.

Winter remembers joining the military, climbing the ranks, and her father spinning her betrayal and running away as a family decision. Weiss was named heiress. Winter almost screamed.

Winter remembers hearing that Weiss had decided to go to Beacon Academy in Vale and almost crying for the first time since she was a teenager. The delight and relief was just _so strong_.

Winter remembers being able to visit, the way Weiss and her were conditioned to act a complete reversal from how she and her partner Ruby acted around each other, and feeling a mix of disgust and relief at the leader of her sister’s team. When her hand met Weiss’ head, she felt like maybe she was a monster as well.

Winter remembers being verbally torn at by Qrow Branwen of all people. He’s disgusting, smarmy, and an alcoholic, and yet by some strange twist of events, he’s highly regarded and ranked. He knows things she’ll never be able to know. No matter how much she proves herself to Ironwood, no matter how quickly she became a specialist, no matter how capable she is, she’ll always be less trusted than a drunk man. _**Useless**_ , like her mother. It still infuriates her now.

Winter remembers that fighting him was one of the most effective things that had made her feel alive. If only she had the chance to bury him in the ground, the drunkard that _by no means_ should have been trusted more than her, then maybe, maybe, she would be validated.

Winter remembers that that didn’t happen in the slightest.

Winter remembers trying to guide Weiss, still a teenager, spoiled to the bone, and still so hurt and scared. She can do it. She always could. Weiss had already been cut off from the family fortune and Winter couldn’t show it, but she’s ecstatic that Weiss is moving along sooner than she had.

Winter remembers hearing that Weiss was taken home, and wanting to scream yet again.

Winter remembers hearing that Weiss is no longer the heiress of the Schnee Dust Company, that it’s Whitley now, and good, that little snot deserves it, but Weiss is missing and her hand shakes as she drinks her tea.

Winter remembers. She remembers, and she waits.


End file.
